(I hope she won.)

In the world of foppery, nothing says "autumn" like a crisp, new, expensive cycling-specific dress shirt. This essential garment tells your colleagues at the architectural firm, ad agency, or design collective that it's "back to business," and is the perfect complement to that designer "fixie" and that $75 haute barber shop-style haircut. So when the press releases of autumn alighted in my electronic mail inbox like so many fallen leaves, it was no surprise that one of them heralded the "dropping" of the Outlier Blazed Cotton Pivot Sleeved Shirt:

The above image shows just what a powerful tool the right cycling-specific dress shirt can be. Would you commission a "green" summer home or conduct "Internet 2.0"-related business with this fellow? I certainly would. In fact, I wouldn't even need to see his renderings for my multi-million dollar "minimalist" beach house made entirely of recycled beverage containers and featuring no less than seven composting toilets, nor would I even bother to listen to his explanation as to why building a new "green" home is somehow more "sustainable" than simply buying an existing one, for his glasses, haircut, and shirt would be all the reassurance I needed. And if this photograph is somehow not enough to convince you that you need to add an Outlier Blazed Cotton Pivot Sleeved Shirt to your wardrobe, here's the accompanying copy:

Quite simply a better men's dress shirt. Our patent pending Pivot Sleeve Shirt fits better and opens up a wide range of motion constrained by traditional shirt constructions. We custom developed the Blazed Cotton fabric to create a quality shirting that stays crisp, clean and dry while living life in action.

Yes, simply slip on an Outlier Blazed Cotton Pivot Sleeved Shirt and you'll marvel at the new range of motion it offers you--in fact, you'll execute movements you never even knew existed. This is because "traditional shirt constructions" are a holdover from the Victorian era and are deliberately constraining and repressive. For example, the "foffing off" motion can be exceedingly difficult in a "traditional shirt construction," whereas "pivot sleeves" will expose you to exciting new feats of auto-erotic manual dexterity such as the "reverse grip," the "prayer grip," and even the difficult yet rewarding "between-the-legs ball dribble."

By the way, I should point out that "shirting" is garmento-speak for "the stuff you make shirt out of," and should not be confused with "sharting," which is something else entirely. (Though I understand the Outlier Blazed Cotton Pivot Sleeved Shirt is completely shart-retardant.) If you're still confused, here's a handy pronunciation guide:

--Shirting

--Shart

And, just for fun, there's also this.

Having grown up in the Paper Age, I'm here to tell you that looking up dirty words in the dictionary is far more rewarding in the Internet era.

Now that everybody knows the difference between "shirting" and "sharting," I'm pleased to present you with a quiz. As always, study the item, think, and click on your answer. If you're right you'll know it (though you should try to refrain from "sharting" yourself with excitement), and if you're wrong you'll see dickheads.

Thanks very much for reading, ride safe, and may you enjoy the full range of motion afforded by a well-engineered shirt this weekend.

--BSNYC/RTMS

The reason for this, of course, is that alcohol both increases one's sense of self-confidence and impairs one's judgement. This is a potent mix, and while it might lubricate a party and get it spinning like a freshly-overhauled hub, it's generally disastrous as soon as one actually leaves a party. Things that happen to drunk people after they leave parties include: crashing into trees; getting into fights with strangers; getting into fights with spouses; going home with carriers of "social diseases;" and wetting themselves on the bus. In short, there is no more potent over-the-counter chemical in existence when it comes to getting people into trouble.

This is not to say I'm a teetotaler; far from it. I like nothing more than enjoying a half-gallon of chilled Selvagem on my veranda in the evening. (Well, technically I don't have a veranda, so I break into my neighbor's sukkah instead.) However, I also think it's generally best to refrain from consuming sizable quantities of alcohol when riding your bicycle on busy city streets. This is why I probably would not endorse some sort of "bicycle pub crawl," though that does not appear to have dissuaded the organizers of this particular "pub crawl" from adapting my blog's logo for their promotional purposes (to which I was originally alerted by "g"):

Again, I am not a teetotaler, nor do I think that enjoying a beer or two over a leisurely span of time and then riding a bicycle is particularly reckless. Also, a "bicycle pub crawl" is certainly a better idea than an "automotive pub crawl," and I like to think that the organizers will go about their itinerary in a responsible fashion. (I realize that Harley Davidson riders also do "pub crawls," but inasmuch as the typical Harley rider is well over 100lbs overweight it's very difficult for them to reach a level of intoxication that would actually impair their riding.)

However, I'd also like to think that the organizers would, at some point in the administrative process, send me an email and ask whether I mind their using a variation of my logo--to say nothing of actually asking me if I'd like to join, since I do find myself in Miami from time to time, and as I said above I do enjoy my Selvagem. Alas, neither of these things happened.

Admittedly, the most likely reason neither of these things happened is that the organizers are familiar with the old saw, "Don't ask if you won't like the answer," and my answer to both questions almost certainly would have been, "Nah, sounds dorky." Plus, if anything, the use of the logo is an homage, and I should be honored and not irritated. I mean, it's not like they're putting it on a t-shirt and selling it for money or anything.

Except they are:

To echo the words of many a Miami grandmother, "What, you don't call, you don't write?" At the very least, if they're going to adapt my logo and sell it for themselves they could have offered to buy the designer of the logo (an affable and talented fellow known by the sobriquet "Dirty Greasy Country Jimmy") a beer.

Oh well, so much for the "bike culture."

In any case, I nevertheless wish the "Miami Bike Scene" success with their pub crawl and with their merchandising efforts, though I will reiterate that their logo should in no way imply my approval or endorsement--because if I were to "curate" and endorse a party, you can be sure that it would feature Uncle Magic, the Hip Hop Magician:



Uncle Magic and Shakim the Clown: accept no substitutes.

Of course, I realize that halfheartedly complaining about some harmless fun-seekers referencing my logo in their revelry sounds dangerously close to whining, and that if anything I should be thanking them. It is, after all, an indication that this blog has achieved some measure of "success," and if they can benefit from that success while at the same time enhancing this blog's success then everyone can be happy and drunk and successful. Wars will end, people of different religions will engage in celebratory mutual ambi-sexual dry-humping, and the world will become a real-life John Lennon song complete with unruly pubic bushes. Conversely, it's people being covetous and selfish with regard to their success that causes evil things like wars, and reluctance to dry-hump, and excessive pubic bush preening. Furthermore, complaining about success rivals even the most offensive "hate speech" in its toxicity--and nobody complains about success like a minimalist. Consider that "I only have 57 things" guy, who is now being forced to confront the fact that he may make over $100,000 this year:

Oh no! Confounded wealth! However will he manage to refrain from buying that 58th thing!?! And not only does he have the sickening audacity to complain that his business may make $100,000, but he's also using it as an opportunity to "challenge" everybody else, like some robber baron in a top hat throwing a roll of cash at a bum and daring him to make something of his life.

Well, I've already taken him up on his challenge, and I don't need to sleep on it either. My movement is called "maximalism," and it is a leaderless army of the millions of people who work for somebody else. (Because we all work for somebody else, even if we're self-employed.) This army will use everything at its disposal to bring the forces of minimalism to its knees. (Or, more accurately, knee--real minimalists only have one.) We will take our meager wages, squander them on overpriced Starbucks beverages, and pour them onto the MacBooks and iPads and iPhones of the minimalists, crippling their ability to communicate and to broadcast their twisted philosophy to the world. We will storm the gentrified neighborhoods of America's cities, hurling Frappuccino Molotovs into the open cockpits of convertible Mini Coopers and Volkswagen Beetles, where they will explode in sickly-sweet frothiness. We will return the world to its rightful balance of the "haves" and the "have-nots," and we will eliminate that hated minimalist construct of the "haves-who-have-not," for they are an abomination. Then, we will issue a counter-challenge to "57 things" guy: to take that $100,000 from your business and simply give it away in the name of true minimalism--or, failing that, to insert it tidily up your ass.

Also, we'll sell t-shirts:

Limited edition soy latte-stained "colorway" available soon.

But while I can't stand it when people whine about success, I enjoy few things more than some good old-fashioned bragging, and one person who has proved himself endearingly adept in this area is professional cyclist Alexandre Vinokourov, shown here in his now-famous "maillot myself:"

When this image first surfaced I relished Vino's unabashed celebration of self. Still, something about it bothered me, though I couldn't figure out what it was--until I happened to be watching one of those stupid VH1 shows where a bunch of comedians you've never heard of and Scott Ian from Anthrax (who they evidently keep locked in a closet in the studio) comment on bands and music videos. At one point, they showed a clip from Van Halen's "Panama" video, and it suddenly hit me: during the "We're running a little bit hot tonight" part, right after the scarf dancing sequence, David Lee Roth tumbles over bassist Michael Anthony and reveals that he is wearing a t-shirt bearing his own airbrushed likeness:

So I guess what had been bothering me was that Vino essentially stole his idea from David Lee Roth--though the V-brake-noodle-and-boot bracelet is entirely his own:

Still, this revelation has not diminished my appreciation for Vino's jersey, though I'm not sure how I feel about his forcing his kids to wear it (as forwarded by a reader):

Clearly though, wearing a Vino jersey will get you some ass.

Speaking of success, if you're insecure about your own you might want to consider purchasing a 24-carat gold Brompton, as forwarded to me by a number of readers:

Like all highly exclusive items, it's available on eBay:

It also boasts an impressive list of features, including red "stop cock handles:"

Here we have the ultimate Brompton on offer. 24 carot gold plated as new 2009 model SL2. It has only been cycled around bike shows where it has been on display, total mileage/meterage is 250 meters. The bike was customised as part of a competition for an insurance company http://www.eta.co.uk/2009/09/04/24ct-gold-brompton-ultimate-folder (and I bought the bike of the winner of the raffle. He collected the bike in January 2010). It was heavily customized but I felt it was too 'Blingy' and I have tried to sympathically modify it further but still maintain its uniqueness but make it a proper rideable brompton bike. So out went the white plastic bar grips and white specialised saddle, etc. Warlands of Oxford expertly improved upon the gear shifter which had the habit of changing gear on its own accord when you braked or accelerated too hard. I have added the Brooks classic tan saddle and put on another Gold finger brake lever as well as other bits and bobs.

Overall modifiactions include

24 carot gold plated frame,with copper 'undercoat' (worth £500+)

Two Goldfinger brake levers

Jagwire gold braid brake cables.

Poolball gear lever mechanism

Gold capped spokes

8 ball style Inner tube caps

Red stop cock handles on frame and front stem bolts.

Gold coloured/leather bar grips

Brooks tan B17 saddle

Skate board roller wheels

Normal 2009 model extras including, frame clip, pentaclip, alloy pedals, etc.

I have entered the 2010 Brompton World Championships at Bleinham Palace beginning of October, where I will cruise round the 13 km course on it's final swansong. May see you there. Please don't crash into me!

I am selling it because I need the cash for my baby boy and the time for me to mess around with bromptons is nearing an end (see my other listing for a brompton frame up for auction). Please feel free to ask questions and inspect before bidding. Happy to ship abroad, please enquire with me regarding shipping rates, I've put down a nominal cost of £30. Please note insurance costs will be extra. Prompt and professionally delivery promised, would however prefer collection and cash. Paypal is fine but please note I will need to add 2.5% to cover costs. (I am not a big fan of paypal, they have a license to print money!)

Thanks for looking, and happy safe cycling.

If you like those stop cocks, be sure to cock-block your fellow bidders by using the "Buy It Now" option.

This is especially puzzling when you consider what little news that would be of interest to the typical cyclist actually emerges from these shows . Sure it's important for shop owners and bicycle companies and those sorts of people to meet and discuss business on a regular basis, and of course the people who sell bicycles should know what colors the new ones will be before they actually receive the boxes, but for the layperson the last genuinely interesting product development was probably the integrated brake/shift lever, or the clipless pedal, or the derailleur drivetrain, or the "safety bicycle" (depending on who you ask and how retro-grouchy they are). Otherwise, pretty much everything else recently has involved Making Stuff Bigger.

Basically, the way Making Stuff Bigger works is that bicycle designers move clockwise around the bicycle and determine which "interface" is ripe for a new injection of collagen. In the last few years they've been focussing on the bottom bracket and headtube, but for 2011 it looks like they're going back to the handlebar. After all, it's been over 10 years since the 31.8 handlebar clamp "standard" was established, and while it once seemed huge it now looks positively spindly next to the "beefy" bottom bracket shells and headtubes of today. Fortunately for us all, Deda is inflating it once again:

Of course, the 31.8 size improved absolutely nothing, apart from ensuring that users of Deda's "oversized" (now "standard") bars would also have to purchase a matching Deda stem. However, an unforeseen benefit to the consumer did eventually emerge, since after awhile everyone else went "oversize" too, and once the 31.8 size became common riders could mix and match stems and bars for both road bikes and mountain bikes with impunity. This was no good for Deda, so now they've been forced to enlarge their bars yet again.

So will people actually buy this? Of course they will. The new Deda over-oversized bars are apparently good for "people with big hands, and people with a need for massive stiffness." Logically, this means that people who use them are big and massively stiff in other areas too, and by extension that people who ride using the now-puny 31.8 size are genitally inadequate, or at best are unable to handle "massive stiffness." At this rate, I fully expect Eurobike and the Sex Toy Expo to combine operations by 2020.

Speaking of putting your hands on throbbing things, a reader informs me that pants behemoth Levi Strauss recently decided to "get their finger on the pulse of the fixed gear and commuter bike movement in an authentic way," presumably so they could sell them more stuff:

Apparently, Levi Strauss decided to do its pop-cultural "fingerbanging" in Denver and Boulder instead of New York, San Francisco, or Los Angeles "because the scene is still young and developing organically in Colorado," and its worth noting that some lonely middle-aged men hang around schools and playgrounds for exactly the same reason. Here's actual video of the Levi's employees asking the unwitting scenesters if they'd like some candy and inviting them into their metaphorical Econoline of Consumerism:

Levi's + The Public Works from The Public Works on Vimeo.

By the way, if you're ever looking to take advantage of a naive and malleable consumer, you can generally identify them by their cigarettes:

It's a sign that says, "I'm willing to buy into anything, even if it kills me."

In any case, it looks like things got pretty wild--so wild, in fact, that at one point they even broke into a spontaneous freestyle market research "session:"

It's inspiring to see that fixed-gear crews are reinventing themselves as focus groups, and it's reassuring to know that young people are more willing than ever to leap to action when a company with over $4 billion in annual revenue asks them to "help us help you spend your disposable income on crap." I'm sure Levi's left after the weekend with a greater understanding of cycling and some great new product ideas (fixed-gear specific jeans with integrated bottle opener and dedicated cigarette pocket?), though the city of Denver might want to consider issuing an AMBER Alert for their "bike culture."

Of course, if Levi's really wanted to do some cutting-edge "fixie" market research, they should have gone to China, where a reader informs me that fixed-gear cycling and juggling are coming together in new and exciting ways:
Yes, for Beijing "fixters" the light-running antics of America's "urban" cyclists simply cannot rival the excitement and agility of circus-like riders such as the great Serge Huercio. Also, they forego skid-patch calculators in favor of juggling patterns:

Though stopping is still called "skidding:"

Ah, the fixed-gear world, where stopping is called "skidding," conformity is called "individualism," and scavenger hunts are called "races."

This is not to say, however, that cycling without coasting and circus behavior do not coexist in the United States. However, it isn't so much an urban subculture as it is an "extreme sport." Consider "extreme mountain unicyclist" Terry Peterson:

"Unlike a bike, you have to pedal every inch of the way. You can never coast," explains Peterson, who is apparently the only person left in the United States who has not heard of the "fixie" trend. Peterson does appear to use a brake though, and the lever is mounted underneath the nose of his saddle:

If you're wondering what makes his brand of unicycling "extreme," the sight of him barreling down a technical descent as he waves one hand wildly and uses the other to repeatedly squeeze a lever located in the vicinity of his genitals should give you some idea. He looks like he's "foffing off" while competing in a rodeo.

However, Peterson's brake lever is not nearly as fascinating as this incredible setup, spotted by a reader in Oslo, Norway:

A closer look reveals that this is the very rare "puppeteer" setup, in which the brake levers are actuated by wires:

This may very well be the most amazing cockpit setup I've seen all year, and as of now it is the clear favorite to win a coveted Cockpit of the Year award (otherwise known as the "Cockie"). You can also be sure that the bicycle industry will take note, and I expect Shimano's new "Marionette" group to be the big buzz at next year's Eurobike.

(Catching up on emails.)

In the meantime, even though I will be on end-of-summer vacation, during my absence I will still be providing wisecracks and shallow insights concerning the Vuelta a España for the Universal Sports web presence, and I will notify you by means of my Twitter account when these are posted. Also, as a special service to my readers, I will be writing these posts in English, so Spanish proficiency is not a prerequisite for enjoyment.

Moving on, you may recall that on Tuesday I mentioned a film project called "To Live and Ride in LA," which features people riding through busy intersections on fixed-gear bicycles. Well, a reader informs me that manufacturer of heavy, un-truable, and not particularly aerodynamic wheels Aerospoke is actually the film's official "wheel sponsor:"

This seems like an extremely poor business decision for Aerospoke, if only because encouraging their customer base to ride brakeless through intersections seems like an excellent way of eliminating it. While Aerospoke may have been taken by surprise back in 2007 when their wheels became popular fashion accessories, my guess is that they've now become accustomed to success, and success breeds complacency. I'm sure they now think the lavish parties and frothy Jacuzzis and endless bottles of Boone's Farm Flavored Apple Wine Product will never end. In fact, judging from the above photo, they've even been able to convince "fixie" riders to use two Aerospokes (Aerospii?) instead of the traditional one, which probably doubled their sales overnight. But I'm here to warn them that they're only a few traffic disasters away from returning to the dark days of the late 1990s when they were selling their wheels though the Nashbar catalog at deep, deep discounts, like a desperate drug addict standing on the corner and trying to sell his own pants.

Meanwhile, speaking of wheel trends, people also continue to emblazon their Deep Vs with messages, and here's one I recently saw in Williamsburg:

According to a popular online translator, the German portion of the message means "Life is Hard." (The English portion is self-explanatory.) However, it's hard to imagine what sort of difficulties the typical "fixie" owner in Williamsburg could possibly face. Cracked iPhone screen? Stolen Brooks? Roommate eating his cereal again? Still, despite my skepticism I nevertheless try to be compassionate, and I hope that in the end he manages to overcome his adversity and find true happiness. (In other words, I hope his parents start sending more money and he's not forced to move to Portland.)

And now, I'm pleased to present you with an end-of-summer quiz. As always, study the item, think, and click on your answer. If you're right you'll know, and if you're wrong you'll see Time Attack Racer, for an ardent cyclist.

Thanks very much for reading, ride safe, and be sure to wring those last few drops of sweat from the rest of the summer. I'll look forward to seeing you again on September 7th.

--BSNYC/RTMS

1) "Ticino" is pronounced:

--"Ti-CHEE-no"
--"Ti-SEE-no"
--"Ti-KEE-no"
--געפֿילטע פֿיש

Still, you've got to admire a company willing to literally pound the crap out of its products, and I only wish Gerard Vroomen of Cervelo would do the same instead of producing fashion shows:



Amazingly, despite this display, the full pro team kit has yet to take off as casual wear.

Speaking of getting new bikes and testing things, I recently received a new "test-cycle" in the form of an Electra Ticino 8D:

Since it comes from a "collection" and is represented by a picture of a guy wearing a wool jersey and the sort of hat worn by people who are way too into "craft ales," I knew the Ticino was going to be something special (and by "special" I mean "pretentious"). Incidentally, Electra are well-known for their "Townie" bicycles, which feature that insanely relaxed "flat foot technology" geometry and are ideal for canine "portaging" (or, if you're not from Portland, "schlepping"):

Electra also sells those Amsterdam quasi-Dutch bikes, one of which I actually reviewed last year:

The Ticino, however, is something different. Here's how Electra's copy explains it:

Whether you ride every day or go for long journeys on the weekend, the Ticino will handle it in comfort and style. Named for an Italian-influenced area of Switzerland, Ticino's design aesthetic, craftsmanship and frame integrity are inspired by the vintage Randonneur-type bikes once ridden throughout the region. Stylistically, Ticino picks up where bike builders of the '40s and '50s left off with its retro-inspired hubs*, cranksets, chainrings, tourist handlebars, forks, pedals and rims. But this thing is far from a relic. When it coms to performance, the Ticino is decked out with the latest custom Electra components and will hold its own against other sporty rides with fast-rolling 700c wheels, a lightweight frame and a host of drivetrains from single-to 20-speed. All in all, the Ticino is a fine-tuned, smooth-gliding machine that offers a comfort level no longer found in today's twitchy frames. Take your time to study the unique details of each model.

*on Ticino 18D, 20D and LUX models

In other words, it's a mass market version of all those North American Handmade Bicycle Show "Artisan Porteurs" that people who wear wool cycling caps love to ogle, but for people who think "lug" is a synonym for "schlep," Rivendell is where Archie and the gang lived, and who don't know Velo Orange from a Jaffa orange.

Anyway, I got the 8D, which doesn't have the "retro-inspired hubs" and which was fine with me because I couldn't care less what my hubs look like. Here's the way the bike looked when I pulled it out of the box:

And here's how it looked after I assembled it, removed the reflectors, and performed my customary and elaborate pie plate-burning ceremony:


Here's the view other cyclists will have when you're "salmoning" towards them. ("Salmon" love Electras like "Freds" love Treks):

Here's the view other riders will have when you're dropping them--which, let's be honest, isn't going to happen:

And here's the way the Electra Ticino looks when it's waiting to go to the bathroom:

It needs to go so bad its spokes went from 3-cross to 4-cross.

As I mentioned, my Ticino didn't come with the "retro-inspired hubs," but it did come with other "custom Electra components," such as the TA-like (or T-Ain't) cranks:

Rims with a vintage-like Mavic-esque pre-exploding wheel era-inspired sticker:


A quill stem with a little threaded cap to cover the stem bolt:


And faux-leather grips with bar-end brake levers:

Together with the vaguely Brooks-like saddle, skinwall tires, and "hammered" (or hammered look) fenders, the bike will do doubt infuriate Randonnerds, retrogrouches, and the sorts of people who bedeck their bicycles with an airport carousel's worth of canvas luggage, but will simply look really nice to people who don't know what any of that means or who don't really care. By the way, here's the OBBS (or Obligatory Bottom Bracket Shot):

While not "beefy" by James Huangian standards, you may note that the bike uses a single chainring sandwiched by a couple of chainring guards, and that it also includes vibration dampeners on the fenders. Also, the frame is aluminum, which will doubtless have rendered any remaining retrogrouches who have not long since defected to Classic Rendezvous apoplectic.

I, however, am not troubled by the facsimile aspect of the bicycle, and while the aesthetic is a little "precious" for me my first impression was that it's a very nice-looking bike. I also found it very comfortable, thought it handled well, was sensibly geared, and was even light enough for the average "wuss" to carry up and down a few flights of stairs.

But to really test it properly I had to take it "out on the town" in the manner of a typical non-bike dork simply looking to ride a comfortable bicycle from one place to another. Fortunately, fatherhood has already rid me of the extraneous portions of my dignity, and I no longer give much thought to my attire or equipment when mounting a bicycle. So, clad in a pair of homemade "shants," flip-flops, and (my only concession to foppery) a canvas bag from Rivendell, I grabbed the Ticino and set out looking like the miserable aftermath of a collision between "cycle chic" and Mugatu's "Derelicte."

My first thought was that this was a kinder and gentler sort of bicycle than I typically ride, and that it was well-suited for the kinder and gentler urban cycling offered by New York City's new lime green protected bike lanes, onto which I soon steered the Ticino:

Incidentally, you may notice that, way in the distance, there is a woman riding a mountain bike on the sidewalk. Apparently, she was too afraid to ride in the street, yet moments before I took this picture she had ridden right through that intersection against the light and was nearly hit by a car. She had a look of terror on her face the entire time, and it was as if some otherwordly force was compelling her towards death and she was powerless to resist. "Must stop at light...can't stop at light." Here she is about to do it again:

This time she actually manages to cross the intersection diagonally, maximizing her exposure time to oncoming traffic:

Anyway, soon I was in Prospect Park, where I joined my upright-riding brethren:

Note the "epic" quill stem on this Klein:

He has more headset spacers than most people have steer tube.

Shortly afterwards, I passed an excited gentleman who regarded me wide-eyed and shouted, "Is that a Schwinn?" At first I was frightened, thinking it was an enraged Grant Petersen come to tackle me from the Ticino and give it the "hammer test." I soon realized it wasn't, though, and as I passed I answered "No." Crestfallen, he reacted as though I had just called his mother a Schwinn. "Not a Schwinn!?!," he exclaimed. However, I did not have time to explain to him that it was not a Schwinn and was in fact a mass-produced facsimile of the "artisanal" retro-inspired bicycles so popular with the "bike culture" right now, and continued on.

Of course, navigating Prospect Park is one thing; hanging with the "hipsters" of Williamsburg on its eponymous bridge is quite another, and it was with trepidation that I approached its purple girders:

Desperately, I clawed my way up to the trio of "hipsters" ahead of me:


Amazingly, I caught them without breaking my flip-flops:


Arriving in Manhattan, I decided I liked the bike. It was as comfortable as a bike needs to be, but it was in no way sluggish. I did, however, ride cautiously, and when I encountered a Mercedes with a vanity plate reading "Cupper" I kept a safe distance:

I did not relish a run-in with the "cupper," having no idea what it was intended to cup.

By the way, so bike friendly has New York City become that in addition to bike lanes we now have designated folding bike unfurling areas:


However, stoplight match sprints continue unabated:

As does shoaling, and on my way back to Brooklyn I was shoaled repeatedly and violently by a "Beautiful Godzilla" in the 2nd Avenue bike lane:

In any case, as everyday transportation the Ticino performs very well, and I'd be lying if I said I haven't thoroughly enjoyed my time on it--though I'd also be lying if I said I didn't find it a little "precious." (Then again, I am a considerable and dedicated schlub.) It's very comfortable, it has fenders, it's stable yet reasonably quick, and you can carry it up steps. It is not exactly cheap, however, and it retails for about $800--though some dupes actually pay close to that for Flying Pigeons, so I suppose price is relative. Plus, it comes with most of what you'd need apart from a rack. To some extent I suppose it is an affront to the more rarefied corners of cycling, but at the same time it's also a coup for accessibility, and it's nothing if not enticing. And it makes way more sense than a Klein with a flagpole for a quill stem.

The UCI really needs to stage an intervention for this guy, and the admonishing visage of his mentor Johan Museeuw glowering at him from beneath his flaxen hairpiece could prove to be just what he needs to "scare him straight."

He then goes on to list (again with the lists!) a number of reasons why comments are an anti-minimalist waste of time, though a more cynical person might suspect that the recent influx of skeptical visitors was really the deciding factor and that he prefers not to grapple with truth:

My blog traffic has exploded to 64,000 readers per month while I was not even here to oversee the operation. Obviously being away from my blog encourages growth more than sitting around all day reading comments does.

Also, he's going "vagabonding," which I guess is a form of minimalist walkabout.

In any case, the truth of the matter is that eliminating comments from a blog is like filling a guitar with cement--you can still play it, but it will lose all its resonance. Even if some of those comments are negative, interesting music is both mellifluous and dissonant, and I suppose what really lies at the heart of minimalism is carefully "curating" your own insular and self-serving "reality"--which is perfectly fine, but also seems antithetical to blogging. Amish people also "curate" an insular self-serving reality, but they're not out there blogging and selling books about it. If you're going to proselytize people into your lifestyle, at least be ready to do some convincing.

Speaking of convincing, a reader informs me that an insurance company failed to convince anybody to buy bicycle insurance, when they left a bunch of bikes around London that didn't get stolen:

However, we may all need insurance if we're invaded by a "hipster robot bike army:"

Actually, judging by most of these fixed-gear videos, we already have.

Consider the fixed-gear trend for example. "Back in the day," all sorts of people rode fixed-gear bicycles, and they thought little of it. Some raced them on tracks, and others trained on them in winter. There were messengers who used them to deliver packages, and there were frugal commuters who simply cobbled them together from spare parts. While to some extent these people were united by their choice of drivetrain, it was mostly Just What They Rode. And as people used to say "back in the day," big freaking deal.

But then, certain people realized that they liked the way certain fixed-gear bicycles looked in conjunction with certain pants and certain bags. So, having Identified something they liked, they set about Appropriating it. The process of Appropriation involves establishing a set of rules, or what a reporter once called "weird style diktats" (frontal Aerospoke, key carabiner, knuckle tattoos, and so forth). These rules are put forth by means of internet bicycle galleries (Fixedgeargallery, Velospace), various blogs (too numerous to mention), and, most importantly, videos (MASHSF and the various facsimilies), so that people in the hinterlands with no direct exposure can see what the whole thing is supposed to look like in motion, and so the participants can establish their credentials. Finally, once the whole trend is documented, detailed, and labeled like a butcher's chart, the Conformity begins. Companies know what to sell, trend-aspirants know what to buy, and everybody's happy.

Consequently, the fixed-gear trend (like any trend) is highly ordered and regimented, and the videos that come out of it follow style guidelines as strict as those governing any sonnet or limerick or sitcom. Consider the latest "trailer" that recently "dropped" all over the non-coasting Internet:

To Live & Ride In L.A. OFFICIAL TRAILER from TRAFIK on Vimeo.

Ever since urban fixed-gear cycling entered the "Conformity" phase, every city in America and beyond has taken turns "stepping up" with a video that shows that they too know how to be like everybody else. San Francisco had "MASHSF" and "Macaframa," New York had "Empire," and now Los Angeles has "To Live & Ride In LA." And while each new video seems to outdo its predecessor, unfortunately it only does so in terms of its inanity. Consider the bold claim this trailer makes in its opening seconds:

Do they really ride the most dangerous streets in America, or do they simply make regular streets dangerous by riding like complete idiots? While I haven't actually seen the entire feature, I'm guessing the latter scenario is more accurate, since the claim is followed by people riding brakeless into busy intersections:

And riding brakeless on the freeway:

And riding down hills brakeless into busy intersections:

Any street is the most dangerous one in America if you ride it like a raging schmuck. Just wait until I "drop" my own "fixie" video, in which I ride up and down the tarmac at JFK while doing elephant trunk skids and almost get hit by a Scandinavian Airlines 747. Streets are for "woosies." 2011's going to be all about 'da "runway cred."

Anyway, just as the fixed-gear trend has followed prescribed stages, so too has my reaction to these sorts of videos and the riding they portray. First, it made me Angry; then, I found it Comical; and now I only feel Sadness. Yes, the sight of somebody riding straight into an intersection in the absence of anything real to rebel against is imbued with pathos--even a suicide bomber believes in something. (Terrorist organizations and religious cults are eventually going to figure out how desperate these "fixie" riders are, and they're going to send representatives to wait on the other side of these intersections during filming. "Just risked your life for no reason? Here, read this pamphlet!") This pathos is even more profound when you consider that he's doing it while his friend who has no actual creativity makes a video of it, presumably so they can screen it at the funeral as a final indignity to the family. But I suppose people with cameras who lack creativity and the people willing to die for them is what L.A. is all about:

Indeed it is. L.A., the land of cultural suicide bombers.

But this film presumably doesn't bother to examine the implications of this behavior, for it's all about "living fast:"

"We will be cutting lights, we will be bombing traffic," promises this rider. He won't be thirsty, though, because he's wearing a CamelBak:

"Thass how we do it," exclaims another rider, neatly summing up the sickening undercurrent of cultural appropriation and conformity that permeates this entire filmed endeavor:

So what's really so wrong with all of this? Is it the riding, which undermines the popular perception of a mode of transport against which people are already prejudiced? Is it the jeopardy in which the participants place themselves? Is it that fixed-gear freestyling and wheelies are so inherently boring that footage of it must be interwoven with near-death encounters just to make it watchable? No, I think it's something even more insidious. Sociologists have tried to scare us with the notion of the "super-predator," a generation of amoral and incorrigible juvenile delinquents. While this is debatable, I do think we're living in the age of the "super-conformist," a desperate generation of 20- and 30-somethings willing to surrender themselves to any pop-cultural phenomenon with an easy checklist, whether it's minimalism, or fixed-gears, or any "[insert commodity here] culture." And we all know what happens when conformity goes too far. Consider the disturbing overtones of this image, which was forwarded to me by a reader:

It's only a matter of time before they discover and appropriate those old Skrewdriver logos just like they did with the Misfits.

Meanwhile, another reader has forwarded me a completely different sort of video, in which an entire family undertakes an "epic" bicycle journey from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego:



Here is the "epic" matron:

And here is the "epic" family:

It's worth noting that the mother is in New York while the rest of the family languishes in a small Peruvian village, ostensibly so that she can pick up a new wheel for her bicycle. She implies it's some sort of wheel that would be difficult to obtain in Peru, so my guess is she's flown here to pick up a used Aerospoke she found on Craigslist. In any case, it's almost certainly the most "epic" wheel pickup and/or excuse to get away from the rest of the family I've ever seen.

Speaking of "epic," yet another reader has informed me of this "epic" bike theft, in which the thief drove a truck through a bike shop window, got stuck, and made his escape on a Giant time trial bike:

According to the article, it was a Trinity Advance, which looks like this:

With any luck, the thief is a triathlete, in which case he will be easily apprehended during the running portion of his getaway.

They also pair this with imagery of sport jackets, flowing scarves, and riding through fallen leaves, so that people think riding to work in the fall is like traipsing across some prep school campus in New England and not the smog-sucking, death-defying, sleet-soaked slog that it really is. Consider this blog post, forwarded to me by a reader, which promises that, "no, you do not need to change your clothes to ride to work," and then presents as an example this image from that insufferably foppish "Sartorialist" blog:

No, you don't need to change your clothes to ride to work--unless you're this guy, in which case you really should. As Paul Newman's stunt double uncomfortably straddles his midlife crisis-inspired "fixie" conversion, his sleeves ride up to the crooks of his arms and his pant cuffs hover at about mid-calf. One can only imagine the strain on the crotchal seam of his trousers, which is almost certainly about to burst. As he casts his eyes pensively eastward, hoping to be noticed, he claws at the bars awkwardly like some morbid hunchback playing Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor in some forgotten church basement. And whither socks? Banished, it would seem, in favor of blisters and swampfoot.

If he refuses to change his clothes in the name of sartorialism, he should at least consider changing his bicycle. Perhaps he should try one of those hefty Dutch numbers so popular with his ilk--or, if he wants something he can actually hoist now and again without incurring a hernia, he might try an Electra Ticino, for the one I have been testing has been quite dandy. (And by "dandy" I mean that it is befitting of one who pursues "the appearance of nonchalance in cult of Self.")

Meanwhile, the reality of urban cycling is considerably less refined. Consider this scene I passed while cycling through Midtown Manhattan at the end of last week:

Please forgive the jaunty tilt of this image--I was, as always, hunched over my aero bars in full-on "TT" mode (I commute on a Cervelo P3 "fixie" conversion) and this was simply the angle at which my head was oriented. In any case, you'll notice that, in addition to the somewhat Ditka-esque gentleman riding his mountain bike on the sidewalk, there is also a pedestrian in the background using stilts and wearing a "banana hammock" in a patriotic "colorway:"

For a moment I thought I might be laboring under one of those LSD "flashbacks" they always told us about in school. ("Back in the day," they used to try to scare you away from psychedelics by assuring you that, if you tried them as a teenager even once, 20 years later you'd be driving your Volvo with your wife, 2.5 children, and Golden Retriever on the way to your weekend house, at which point you'd suddenly be stricken with a "flashback" in which you hallucinate a giant lizard fighting with a giant raccoon in the middle of the highway. Swerving to avoid them, you'd then send yourself and your entire family plummeting into a ravine.) Ultimately, however, I ruled this out, since when I kicked out the stilts from beneath the guy in the bikini he came crashing down in a heap instead of exploding in a hail of petunias and candy corns like my hallucinations usually do.

Still, I am always waiting for that potentially fatal fixed-gear freestyle "edit" of the mind to "drop," and if the possibility of seeing lizards fighting raccoons, or nearly-naked men on stilts, or Mike Ditka is not enough to dissuade you from cycling under the influence of hallucinogens, then perhaps this cautionary tale from an LSD-addicted messenger which was forwarded to me by another reader is. Consider the following excerpt:


To describe the experience of putting my life in the hands of the San Fransisco Traffic God's while the sky melds together in an amalgous orgasm of blue and magenta and while cars leave such profoundly solid tracers behind them that I can't tell whether they're limousines or not is, essentially, impossible. The experience is just fucking ludicrous. I've been bombing hills at 35 miles an hour before only to have taxi cars open their doors in front of me with only ten feet to brake. I've been within inches of been piledrived by several ton cars in direct oncoming traffic. On one occasion, the quick release on my primary brakes snapped while I hauled ass down one of the steepest streets in the city (which is really saying something, if you've ever been to San Fransisco before), forcing me to simultaneously wedge my foot between my front wheel and my front forks to slow myself down while navigating my bike through two massive four way intersections. I was a half second away from getting anally raped between a bright silver Hummer and a half lime-green/half hot-pink sedan. I suspect that this was not the actual colour of the vehicle.

While the idea of a lysergic acid diethylamide-addled messenger plying the streets of San Francisco is disconcerting, I was impressed that he apparently had the wherewithal to install some sort of auxiliary braking system, since he refers to his "primary brakes" malfunctioning. Unfortunately, he doesn't explain what this auxiliary braking system is, so it could be his fixed-gear drivetrain, or a coaster brake, or a parachute in his Chrome messenger bag, or perhaps even some kind of braking system of the mind in which a phalanx of Care Bears descend from the heavens and wrangle him to a stop with a rainbow of friendship. In any case, it's more than the typical Nü-Fred is using, and our hero would like us to know that he's got things under control:

I've since gotten used to getting my shit together on acid. To be honest, though, it's pretty effectively kept me from ever being able to relax on psychedelics, even if I'm not on my bike. When trip-cycling, I have to devote every ounce of my mental capacity to keep my mind on the road and my reflexes. It's a combination of letting my mind trust myself so completely that I don't have to think about hitting that brake fast enough to avoid that taxi door or turning my wheel just enough that I neither plow into that pedestrian OR get clotheslined by that pole, and forcing my mind to be on the edge constantly.

So in other words, it's taken him gallons of psychedelics to learn that he needs to pay attention while riding his bike. In many ways, this is the very essence of the drug experience: wasting years of your life on a mythic journey in pursuit of the sorts of revelations that are, for everyone else in the world, simply common sense. It's like going through the trouble and pretense of becoming a minimalist in order to figure out that, yes, you don't really need that second fondue pot.

But at least he seems to have things in perspective:

Then, I have to live with the ramifications of dosing large amounts of psychedelics up to five times a week for multiples years on end. I'll be just like one of those burned out hippies on Haight and Ashbury that can't finish a sentence, mumbling to themselves about UFO's and how cheap weed used to be.

Or, in other words, he's going to be the next Dogpaw:



You could certainly do a lot worse for yourself. Anyway, I'd rather share the streets with thousand Dogpaws (Dogspaw?) than with one salmoning tourist:

At least, I'm assuming he's a tourist, since he was riding one of those "Bike and Roll" bikes:

As the Book of Fred predicted, "And you shall know them by their handlebar bags, and they will salmon towards you wearing expressions of cluelessness and sandals of nylon:"

I like tourists, and while cycling I do my best to treat them with respect--even when they study maps while standing in crosswalks or ask me for directions to streets on which they're currently standing. (I'm referring of course to the short-term tourists and not the ones who stay here for two or three years, are called "hipsters," and occupy that giant extended stay theme hotel known as "Williamsburg." They're similarly clueless, but instead of asking for directions they use their iPhones.) However, coming here and salmoning is very disrespectful--it's like visiting the Wailing Wall and having a pig roast, or like visiting Portland and showering daily. One wonders if they behave as poorly back home in Salt Lake City--where, as it happens, yet another reader spotted this Ford GT in the Gulf Racing "colorway" complete with trunk-mounted triple-chainring Trek:

Clearly he is the World's Fastest Fred.

Nevertheless, it's important to remember that you should behave at an intersection the same way you would in a public restroom, in that you should wait your turn and keep a polite distance. Shoaling is like sidling up to someone at a urinal, unzipping your fly, and "joining in," so unless you're trying to pull a Larry Craig you should do your best take your place at the back of the line.

Still, there's one thing worse than being inconsiderate when you ride, and that's being afraid. This is because decisions borne of fear tend to be bad ones. This is why I was dismayed to read the following in an interview on BikePortland with the rider who inspired the infamous "Kill this Bicyclist!" post:

Commuting by bicycle in Portland is like sloshing around in the kiddie pool while wearing water wings and a life preserver, so if riding a bicycle in Portland makes him that nervous and agitated then I'm not sure he should be on a bicycle at all. I especially like that he's "big, aggressive, and loud" and that he gets "quite an attitude much of the time"--so in addition to sloshing around in the kiddie pool, he also bullies the little children while he's in there (presumably by intimidating them with his "statuesque ass"). I would love to see him attempt to ride here in New York City, where you'd probably find him somewhere along the Great Hipster Silk Route, clinging to a lamppost and sobbing.

Speaking of sobbing, I'm pleased to present you with a quiz. As always, study the item, think, and click on your answer. If you're right you'll know it and may treat yourself to a pickle, sardine, or other delicious treat, and if you're wrong you will see someone ride his bicycle through his fears, ride his bicycle through his fears.

Thanks very much for reading, ride safe, and refrain from shoaling--even if you have a "statuesque ass."

--BSNYC/RTMS